


Diamond Dolls

by gothboss



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: BULLY THE KAZ, Cheesy 80's Vibe and also Pain and Suffering, Humiliation, Literally just every bad 80's crime movie trope rolled into one with more butt stuff, Lots of sex tbh, M/M, Neon Garbage, PTSD, Recreational Drug Use, Scent Kink, Slow Burn, Slow Burn for Vkaz anyway, Strip Club/Brothel AU, Ugly Boots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-05-22 00:45:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6064393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gothboss/pseuds/gothboss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The year is 1984, and "Big Boss" is the owner of a strip club called "Diamond Dolls"; a neon hovel nestled snugly between filthy hotels and gas stations. Due to its location on the highway and dirt cheap drinks, it's a popular joint for truckers and drifters alike.</p><p>It's business as usual until a particular drifter rolls in- a drifter that bears an uncanny resemblance to Big Boss himself. He soon offers the drifter an offer he can't afford to refuse: the task of managing his club while he does business overseas. What he neglects to mention, however, are his many powerful enemies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A God in an Alcove

The air was thick with the scent of hedonism and the sounds of indulgence.

From atop his Italian leather throne with a lit cigar between his teeth, Big Boss surveyed his kingdom before him. 

His personal Gomorrah: Diamond Dolls. 

Such an assuming little strip joint on the side of the highway held such a show within. Inside, a microcosm of man’s most beloved vices. 

Beautiful women in various degrees of undress danced on platforms and twirled around shiny, silver poles affixed to the low ceiling. Small pockets of men gawked. In the center, a long runway surrounded by tables and chairs stretched out forward. Another pole was placed at the end, but far more decorated and lit up than the others. 

A spot reserved for temporary royalty, claimed at that moment by a duchess with a messy brown ponytail and a sour expression. 

The man sitting beside him, bathed and illuminated in hot pink neon, leaned across a mirrored glass table. His shimmering marabou boa slipped down his shoulders as he pressed his index finger against his nostril and inhaled sharply, his platinum blond hair following a trail of fine, white powder. 

He sat upright and threw his head back, grinding his teeth and wrenching his eyes shut. 

“ _Govno_ ,” he hissed in his mother tongue. 

Big Boss chuckled to himself. 

“This is good, isn’t it?” 

The man beside him opened his eyes and stared blankly for a moment, trying to process his words despite his brain having been overclocked to a blinding, numbing speed. He slumped forward a bit. 

His dilated pupils and bloodshot sclera scanned over Big Boss’s face, suddenly noticing new details he’d most likely rediscover later. He mouthed the word “what”, drowned out by the shrill synthesized instruments of New Wave music blasting from the speakers. 

“The blow, Adam. It’s good, isn’t it?” 

Big Boss’s voice boomed over the noise, only slightly slurred from the cigar dangling between his lips. 

“Fuck, John-“ Adam sighed, wiping away beads of sweat rolling down his face with the back of his hand. His eye makeup smeared, but it didn’t matter since “Kitty” wasn’t due on-stage for another twenty minutes. 

“It wasn’t cheap. Took a lot of convincing. Negotiating. I know I can at make at least triple what I paid,” Big Boss- John- went on, casually throwing an arm around Adam. “Figured I’d give you a taste before I send it back out.” 

Adam’s speeding heartrate skipped yet another beat. He melted back into John’s touch, the man’s fingertips like fire against his clammy skin. His own hands trembled violently as he brought them up to his chest, grasping at the chiffon of his peignoir. 

“T-thank you,” was all he could muster in response. 

Just a few yards away at the main stage, the girl with the ponytail gripped the pole in front of her. Effortlessly, she hoisted herself up sideways, wrapped one stocking-clad leg around it, and swung herself along down until her knees grazed against the tile below. 

She rose back up in one slow, exaggerated movement with her ass dragging against the shiny chrome of the pole. To the beat of the music, she spun and ground her way to the end of the song. 

Throughout her performance, her pout remained constant. Her skin had a soft fluorescent glow, contrasting with the dark circles under her green, green eyes. 

Almost as green as the bills stuffed into her bikini. 

“Atta girl, Quiet!” John grinned and slapped his knee, leaning forward and pointing. “That’s our girl, Adam. You could probably learn a thing or two from her.” 

“She’s not that impressive,” the other man said with a roll of his eyes, crossing his arms across his chest. “Relies too much on her body alone. She has no stage presence.” 

“All that cash says otherwise.” 

Irritated, Adam sunk back into the leather sofa. She may have had her youth, but “Kitty” still pulled in more a night than she did in a week. However, he had more of a hands-on approach. 

“Listen, Adam,” the other man began. He spoke slowly, not taking his eye off the stage. “Might have to take off for a little while. You’ve gotta hold down the fort again.” 

“Why?” Adam’s normally low voice became more of a whine. 

“I’ve got some more business to take care of regarding a few new girls,” John went on, pulling him into his lap. “Russia.” 

“Russia?” Adam parroted. At that point, the word felt so foreign on his tongue. 

“Too many locals. We need more Russian broads. Thankfully, I’ve got a guy.” 

“But, John- When you’re gone, some of the patrons get handsy and greedy. Things get dangerous. People start asking a lot of questions and snooping around.” 

“It’s a business venture I can’t pass up.” 

“What about _him_?” 

John paused for a beat and stared ahead, scanning the club before his single eye landed on a slouching figure in the back. 

A man not much younger than Adam leaned against the plush paneling of the wall, dressed in a disheveled, costume shop kimono, the bottom cut just short enough to barely reach his thigh. One of his sleeves hung limply at his side, empty. He was conversing with a patron who seemed awfully uninteresting until he produced a wad of cash. Behind his aviator shades, his eyes lit up. 

“He’s going to have to figure out how to take care of things himself,” John murmured. His voice became more hushed and serious. “I can’t be in two places at the same time, Adam.” 

“I understand that, but-” 

“That’s enough.” 

He stood up and Adam slid off his lap back onto the seat next to him. A dejected frown spread across his lips as he watched the other man put out his cigar into a crystalline ashtray. 

“But, John-“ 

“I’m heading to the back office for a bit to make a few phone calls. You’re up soon, anyway. Make me proud, ‘Kitty.’” 

Adam bit down on his glossy bottom lip before nodding, turning on his heel and walking towards the dressing rooms in his mules. 

For just a brief moment, John glanced over his shoulder at the other man’s backside. The silk slip underneath his peignoir clung to his ass with every step he took, the fabric shifting from pastel pink to purple under the warm glow of the neon lights. 

It was a damn shame he couldn’t stick around for “Kitty’s” show, but he had more pressing matters in the back office. 

Still, he couldn’t help but notice a bright purple bruise on the back of his thigh. 

It wasn’t one from him.


	2. First and Last and Always

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kitty is a bitch who wears ugly shoes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait. <3

It wasn't "Kitty's" first rodeo. Nor was it his second. Or his third.

For years, Kitty took to the stage with the same routine, the same song, and the same finesse. 

As he grew older, he became more of a novelty act; beloved and familiar to the older patrons but shocking to those more recent to Diamond Dolls. Adam wasn't the same cocky, spry young man he had been twenty years ago. His joints ached and his balance became unsteady, and though he was still quite beautiful, fine lines spread across his face like the wrinkles in mishandled silk. 

From beneath the weight of Lancôme mascara, his eyes were just so tired.

Hidden away in the dressing rooms, he shoved his way past the other girls and kicked off his marabou-topped mules, dropping on his knees to reach beneath a dimly lit vanity. Adam pulled out a shoebox and lifted the lid. His fingers still shook lightly from his high. 

As he no longer got nude onstage at that point, his outfits needed to be more interesting than his dance. Though, it wasn't the act itself that brought in the most cash.

Like all of the other employees at Diamond Dolls, he offered more personal performances as well. 

Those services usually came shortly after his stage time, once he made his way back to the dressing room, John would approach him with a "client" by his side.

Unlike the other workers at the club, however, his rules were much more strict and heavily enforced by John. 

Though he would never quite admit it outright, he was a bit possessive and overprotective of Adam. He saw to it that "Kitty's" rates were incredibly high and his services limited. Nobody would dig their dirty fingernails into the back of his head without paying a small fortune first.

In his younger years, it made Adam incredibly arrogant. He adopted a habit of talking down to customers, belittling them and cursing them as they ran their hands across soft, taut skin. He knew that John would intervene at the first sign of danger, as he often waited outside the door to the private parlor to ensure the patron got their money's worth. Adam would let out a cry and he'd burst through the door, ready to tackle whoever couldn't keep their hands to themselves. 

However, as time went on, John's interventions became less and less frequent. Adam certainly wasn't a stranger to the abuse given his days making a living in his home country.

The scars on his body no longer remained, but the ones in his memory stretched far and ragged. 

Thankfully, the American folk were a little less aggressive. 

It wasn't often, but there were times when patrons got upset. For the price they paid,  they'd sometimes expect quite a bit more than just a blowjob. He'd never swallow for them, either.

He worked best with his lips wrapped around John's thick, veiny cock, nose pushed into coarse pubic hair and inhaling his musk. He'd close his eyes and let John fill the back of his throat when he came.

He'd savor every last second of that fleeting intimacy. 

Being between John's legs felt so natural and lovely as opposed to between those of a stranger. It was safe. Familiar. 

Adam may had been born with the innate ability to give mindblowing head, but that didn't stop some customers from demanding extra and lashing out when being denied.

Of course, when he took to the stage- he was untouchable. 

Basking in the dull fluorescence of the vanity lights, he drug his tongue slowly across his bottom lip. The box trembled in his gently trembling hands. 

"Kitty! What the hell are you doing? You're on!" 

One of the other dancers snapped him from his thoughts. A faceless bimbo, just like the rest of them. They were so expendable compared to him. 

He was John's favorite. He'd always be John's favorite. 

"You can wait," Adam sneered, pulling out a stack of lingerie with something folded securely within. He peeled apart the glittering layers and uncovered a pair of white calf-high cowboy boots that had been studded down the sides with  rhinestones, sparkling with a filigree design threaded into the leather. A silver spur rested on the back of each heel. 

He smirked quietly to himself as he remembered John's immediate confusion when he had pointed them out in the store. He'd never forget that day twenty years ago: fresh off the plane in America and taken on a post-coital shopping trip. Adam barely spoke English then, but they didn't need many words to communicate. 

John really knew how to spoil him.

He used to, anyway. 

Those days, he was lucky to get a quick fuck or a bump of coke before being sent back to work so John could make yet another long-distance phone call or some cross-country trip. 

"Big Boss" was such a busy man. 

Adam sighed and pulled his boots on over his stockings, standing up and dusting himself off in the process, then glanced over at one of the vanity mirrors. His mascara had run down the high arches of his cheeks, smudged across his face with blush and eyeshadow fallout. 

There really wasn't any time to touch up his makeup, but he began to worry regardless. He was starting to look as unkempt as "Hana."

Shaking the thought from his mind, he made his way backstage, ready to put on a show.


	3. Body Electric

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS TOOK 37 YEARS(emetophobia warning!!!)

“Fuck, baby. You’re so good.”

Tried as he might, he couldn’t keep the late night cable clichés from spilling out.

Overacted and hammy, every word from his mouth was an embarrassing facsimile of genuine pleasure.

“Kitty” may have had his stage, but Kaz had his own dance.

Away from the glamour and music, “Hana” worked best on his back in the glow of fluorescent hotel room lights and face down into the warm pleather of passenger seats.

There was no glitter or champagne.  
Instead, there was the stale smell of cigarettes mixed with the unfamiliar, sour stench of a stranger. It made his stomach turn.

“Harder, harder-“ Kaz hissed, his words muffled by the yellowy fabric of the pillowcase his face had been shoved into. On his knee, he gripped the sheets below him with his remaining hand as the nameless, faceless trucker pounded into his ass.

It didn’t feel bad, but it didn’t feel very good. The trucker was clearly inexperienced with fucking men. However, at that moment, “Hana” was the only thing he could afford. It was purely desperation.

As he continued to thrust away, Kaz let his mind wander. Kitty’s show had probably ended by then, meaning he was mostly likely relaxing in Big Boss’s office or nestled right in his lap.

For Kaz, there was no relaxing in Big Boss’s office, no lamb and wine dinners, and shopping trips. There were definitely no bumps of coke or stealthy backstage kisses. Big Boss didn’t bless him with the time of day when Kitty was around.

Instead, Big Boss gave him the kind of blessing that manifested itself in unsightly scabs and bruises lining his arms and thighs, the kind that manifested in chills and vomiting all over himself and the floor of the room Big Boss so graciously blessed him with, too.

Big Boss didn’t spoil Kaz, he supplied him.

It was still more than he could ever ask for.

“You’re the best I’ve ever had,” he said through gritted teeth, his voice rehearsed and empty. The stench of the man above him was almost unbearable. He smelled like a spilled garbage can on a humid day.

Still, his thoughts continued to drift back to Kitty and Big Boss. What were they doing at that very moment? If Kitty’s dance was over, they had probably headed back to their home away from home- the humble little cabin Big Boss had paid to have built for him a few years back.

Away from all the decadence and indulgence, it was small and sparsely decorated. Many times had Kitty attempted to brighten up the place with his gaudy, hideous taste in furniture and was met with Big Boss’s disapproval each time.

Kaz thanked his lucky stars he’d never have to see another set of tacky animal print curtains again.

To him, everything about Kitty was so over the top and obnoxious.

Like many other things, it made him sick.

Watching Kitty trail Big Boss into his room, listening to his exaggerated porn star moans through the paper-thin walls- it was hard to assume it was anything other than Kitty trying to agitate him personally. Every sound from his mouth was a personal, passive-aggressive attack. Every look, too. If Kaz wasn’t so sure Big Boss would put a bullet right through his skull, he’d-

“F-fuck me,” he whined nasally, his words catching in his throat against the rising acid. Silently, he begged the man to finish up soon.

“Jesus, shut up!”

The man above him grabbed the back of Kaz’s head, tangling his fingers in his hair tightly against his scalp. He shoved his face forward into the mattress and sped up his pace.

Though he was thankful, Kaz’s nausea hadn’t subsided.

With a low groan and a stutter of his hips, the man came- but not before wrenching Kaz’s head back to drag his tongue up the side of his face. As he pulled away, it gave Kaz just enough time to turn his head before vomiting all over the pillows and headboard.

 

\- - -

 

With a lit cigarette and the tang of stomach acid on his lips, Kaz leaned a hip against the railing and ran his fingers through his unwashed, oily hair. It wasn’t the first time he’d thrown up around a client and it certainly wouldn’t be the last time.

After inhaling nothing but the stench of sweat and sex and all sorts of discomfort, the crisp night air was particularly refreshing.

Big Boss paid the owner of the nearby hotel a pretty hefty sum to allow him to host his girls without any authorities catching wind. Still, Kaz didn’t think he paid them enough. Used condoms on the floor and a bit of puke on the bed were nothing compared to some of the room destruction he’d seen in his time.

Kaz pushed his sunglasses up to the top of his head and took a long drag from his cigarette, watching the stupid little bugs run into the flickering lightbulb again and again.

“‘Scuse me.”

A deep voice called out from behind him, echoing against the brick walls of the outdoor hallway.

“No more. I’m done for the night, sorry,” Kaz said bitterly, not bothering to glance away from the light.

“What?”

The voice sounded genuinely confused and a little frightened. Humoring him, Kaz turned on his heel.

“Listen, I’m not-“

He was suddenly met with one warm blue eye and a glazed-over white one. The blue followed his gaze while the white remained stationary, as if frozen. The strange man opened his mouth to speak again.

“I don’t mean to bug you or anything, just wanted some directions.”

“It’s 2 AM and you’re wandering around a hotel for ‘directions?’”

Kaz couldn’t help but stare into his dead eye. He knew it was rude, but with how often people gawked at his missing limbs he really didn’t give a shit.

Still, his face looked so familiar. Softer.


	4. Doubts Even Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sort of short :((((

It finally dawned on Kaz like the first peek at the morning sun during a particularly nasty tequila hangover.

He had the face of someone he’d seen before.  
Big Boss.

That clueless stranger was almost a mirror image of him, save for the cloudy eye and the prosthetic arm reaching up to scratch at his beard. There was something else he couldn’t put his finger on. It definitely wasn’t the two chunks of what appeared to be metal protruding from his forehead. 

“I wanted to know where the nearest payphone was,” the man said carefully, as if trying not to frighten a wild animal. Kaz felt a bit patronized but kept his mouth shut to humor him. “There wasn’t one at the gas station and the guy at the front desk wouldn’t let me use their phone.”

“What do you need a phone this late at night for?” Kaz asked. His mouth drew into a tight line- wary, but still quite intrigued by this near-perfect Doppelganger.

“I've got to call my family. Got to let them know I'm okay.”

“Sounds like you're a long ways from home, huh?”

A slight glint of worry flashed in the man's eye. To Kaz, grilling him almost felt like a power trip. He rarely got that sort of control in any situation, let alone with any other person.

“A long ways from home? I guess.”

The man had already started to clam up. Guess Kaz wasn’t so intimidating after all.

“We’ve got a phone you can use down at the club.”

That was the absolute, honest truth. Diamond Dolls did, in fact, have a phone. 

However, letting the guy actually use it was the last thing on his mind. Kaz needed Big Boss to meet his own reflection. Maybe he had a brother he never told anybody about? 

Keeping secrets and things under wraps was not unfamiliar territory for Big Boss.

“The club?”

“Is there an echo out here?”

The man stared at him blankly for a moment, genuinely confused.

“Echo?”

Kaz laughed bitterly and took another drag from his cigarette. 

"Christ."

\- - -

He quietly trailed behind Kaz as they took the long staircase down the back of the hotel, following a narrow pathway until they reached the parking lot.

“So,” Kaz finally piped up after minutes of silence. “You got a name?”

In thought, the man glanced over at one of the flickering lampposts, though his white eye remained in place. He opened his mouth to speak a few times before responding with

“V.”

Unsatistfied with his answer, Kaz pressed on.

“V? What’s that short for? Victor? Vernon?”

“I don’t remember. I just know it starts with a V.”

A sinking feeling suddenly washed over Kaz as he looked back over his shoulder. There was no need to press further. Maybe bringing a one-eyed, one-armed, horned amnesiac back to Big Boss wasn’t exactly the best idea. Still, they were too close to turn back and Kaz had promised him a phone.

That and something about him seemed so awfully harmless.

“What about you, stranger?”

V’s voice was soft. Kaz wasn’t used to being spoken to so softly.

“Kazuhira.”

“Kazoo- Ka-“

“But they call me ‘Hana’ back at the club.”

Kaz smiled a sad little smile to himself as he stared forward, still walking. His hand fell to his side, gripping the dirty hem of his costume between his fingers.

“How do they get ‘Hana’ from ‘Kazu-“

“They don’t.”

The two of them walked in complete silence for the rest of their trip, save for V’s breathing.

Emerging from the darkness of the back roads, they were suddenly thrust into flashing neon lights. Each bulb in the words “Diamond Dolls” bathed them in the white glow of carbon dioxide. The outline of a diamond in the center pulsed rhythmically to no music, illuminating the empty parking lot.

V quickly cupped a hand over his eye and let out a small hiss in pain.

“What, did you look into the lights?” Kaz asked, stifling a laugh. V nodded, embarrassed. “It’s almost closing time so they should be shutting them off soon anyway. Come on, we’ll go through the back.”

He led V around the side of the building before stopping at a big metal door. Motioning for him to stay back, Kaz gave a little knock. A bouncer poked his head out, exchanged a nod with Kaz, the wordlessly stepped back. Out of the corner of his eye he saw V shift uncomfortably.

Diamond Dolls wasn’t the place for someone like him.


	5. Figurative Theatre

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nnngggghh it's like 75% boning
> 
> EDIT: fixed a few issues. Anybody interested in possibly beta'ing?

To Adam, there was something just so lovely about getting intimately reacquainted with the woodgrain of Big Boss’s dark walnut desk. 

His face rhythmically smeared against a thick puddle of saliva and makeup as a stream of incoherent noises oozed from his open, drooling mouth. He babbled on and on as his knuckles, clawing around the edge of the table, began to grow white.

Things were as they should be.

A reward for a job well done.

From behind him, Big Boss- John- stood. With the sleeves of his black leather jacket rolled up to his forearms, one hand knotted its fingers into the back of Adam’s hair, pulling him back from the table slightly, while the other held him down by the small of his back. 

Lips parted with gritted teeth, John pounded his reward between his spread thighs. In return, Adam bent his tired body and offered himself to him.

He was so, so thankful. He couldn’t ask for more.

As his thrusts sped up, John tightened his grip. His hands were slick with sweat and sweetly-scented lube, his fingers leaving trails of the sticky fluid across Adam’s skin and clumped in his hair. Every inch of him glistened under the dull fluorescent lightbulbs. Holographic body glitter refracted the lights as he lurched forward with each powerful thrust.

“You like that?” he hissed, punctuating his question with an open-palmed slap on the ass. “All those people get to see you show yourself off out there, but nobody gets to see you like I do. Right?”

Adam could only muster a guttural moan in response. Another slap.

“Right?”

“Of course,” Adam choked out as John let his face drop back onto the table. His mouth hung open wide and his lipstick smudged across his face with drool. In every sense of the word, he looked filthy. 

Debauched. So debased and defiled.

“And you’d do anything for me, right? Anything I asked?”

“Anything.”

Unpeeling his face from the wood, Adam mustered the strength to flash John a small, open-mouthed smile before collapsing forward again. He was so terribly close, but John was so greedy with his touch.

Then again, he didn’t really mind being used like a doll.

He loved being all dressed up by him, he loved being spoiled and doted upon, and he loved being paraded around like property. 

It was so degrading, but God- he really loved it.

He suddenly felt himself being lifted up and dropped onto his back and, acting purely on instinct, he wrapped his arms and stocking-clad legs around John. Pressing his face into his shoulder, he inhaled the familiar, comforting scent of the same man who had smuggled his ass out of Russia twenty whole years ago.

John snaked a hand between them, wrapping his fingers around Adam and jerking him off roughly as his other hand lay flat beside his blonde head. He pressed his lips against Adam’s in a chaste kiss before pushing his mouth open again with his tongue.

It was too much for Adam.

“Boss, I- John!”

His glassy blue eyes rolling back into their sockets and his toes curling, he came with a nasally whine and splattered his own stomach in cum. John yanked his hand away and leaned in.

His breath hitching, he kissed Adam roughly before pulling away to whisper harsh into his ear:

“You did good, Kitty.”

He gave a few more violent thrusts into Adam’s limp body before pulling out to finish all over his chest and face in thick, gooey ropes.  
John- no, Big Boss grinned down at him from above. The impossible whiteness of his teeth contrasted starkly against his tan complexion, and it was almost as if looking a wild animal right in the jaws.

It was the maw of the beast Adam really, truly loved.

They sat in silence for a moment as Big Boss tucked himself back into his pants, every so often glancing at the motionless Adam sprawled out across the table like a ragdoll.

A sudden knock at the door, however, caused the two to nearly jump out of their skin.

Big Boss reached into the front of his jacket, pulling out a SIG P220 from a shoulder holster as Adam scrambled to pull his cream-colored silk robe over his exposed body.

“Boss, it’s me,” he heard call from the other side of the door. “There’s someone you’ve gotta meet. Let me in!”

Adam rolled his eyes and mouthed “Hana”, cleaning off his cum-dripping face as Big Boss placed his gun back into its holster, cautiously making his way towards the voice. He gave a twist on the handle and opened it, hurriedly ushering the two inside.

Ever an absolute wreck, the disheveled Hana stood next to V with their backs to the wall, making the grimy drifter look like royalty in comparison. 

“Thought you might get a kick out of this,” he went on, gesturing to the man beside him. V nodded curtly, though visibly uncomfortable and confused. His one functioning eye darted around the room before landing on Big Boss.  
Their eyes met and locked.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Big Boss said, amused. Adam slid off of the desk onto his feet and gave V a quick look up and down before circling around him like a wildcat. “Who is this?”

“’V’, apparently.”

“You smell awful.”

Though Adam’s words were clearly meant for Hana, V looked a bit hurt. Big Boss continued to stare at him, though, his single eye scanning over his face.

“I was really hoping to use your phone,” V murmured, his gaze shifting from Big Boss to the grey carpet. 

“How ‘bout we have a chat instead?”


	6. The Art of Parties

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully updates will be a lil more frequent like this....... also gonna take time to add some more tags...... thanks 4 readin this hot garbage

Kaz stood rigidly, his fingers balled into a tight fist at his side. 

That very same predatory glint in the eye of Big Boss was one he had burned into the back of his own retinas, one he’d grown to both fear and admire. It was an expression as clear as day, yet so impossible to truly read. Still, he’d only brought the guy in to get a reaction- that just wasn’t the one he was anticipating.

A sudden pang of regret twisted itself deep in his empty gut as his palm started to sweat. 

His nose wrinkled at the stench of body heat and musk as his eyes drifted over to Kitty, who had hoisted himself onto the desk. His feet dangled off the edge and, even in the dim lighting, Kaz could have sworn he saw something drip down the inside of his leg. Kitty was in absolutely no place to talk about hygiene. The mess of luxury makeup smeared all across his silent, smug face spoke volumes.

“So, I’m guessing you brought this guy in here to show me,” Big Boss finally spoke, nodding towards V. Kaz opened his mouth to speak but was promptly cut off. “Hana, you may have just brought me a solution to a little problem we’ve had here lately.”

Seeing them stand across from one another made him feel a bit uncomfortable, as the differences and similarities began to blend and meld together in his vision. The things that were the same seemed so natural, but those that weren’t were awfully jarring- namely that metal horn sticking out of V’s forehead.

Big Boss seemed to notice, too as he brought his hand to his own forehead and tapped at it. 

“That could be a bit of an issue, though,” he went on, still not breaking eye contact. “Just what in the hell is that? And that arm, too.”

To Kaz at least, there was something about the indescribable softness on V’s face. Despite the scars and marks, there was some sort of gentleness to it.

While Big Boss always had his lips drawn into a smirk or a thin line, V seemed to keep his just slightly parted. On V’s face- sad, sad eyes and a permanent pout. On Big Boss- calculated cockiness. Kaz watched as V brought a hand to the chunk of metal, his expression darkening as if he’d never noticed it there before.

“Shrapnel,” he said as he rubbed his fingers against it. “Chopper went down. About fifteen years ago.”

“Vietnam,” Big Boss replied rather thoughtfully, more of a statement than a question, while reaching into his leather jacket and producing a cigar tin. He pulled out a cigar and held it between his lips before offering one to V. Putting a hand up, V declined as respectfully as he knew how. “Hana here’s a vet, too. Looks like you came out a lot luckier than he did.”

Every hair on the back of Kaz’s neck stood on end. He felt V’s eyes on him, but he didn’t dare look up from the gold-flecked tile. If he had anything left in him, he’d probably have thrown up again. And again. Until he could lay cold in a puddle of himself all inside-out. 

A gunshot and a shout rung in his left ear. 

Nobody seemed to notice.

“So, your name. What’s your name?” 

“He told me I could use your phone. I need to call home.”

“Your name. What is it?”

Big Boss bore into his glassy white eye with his cold blue one.

“I don’t remember.”

“Bullshit.”

“I’m telling the truth. Please- I just need to make one call.”

Big Boss motioned for Kitty. He slid off the desk and hobbled over to his side with weak knees, taking a lighter from the man’s hands and flicking it open. Kitty lit the cigar dangling from his mouth and stepped back, eyeing V suspiciously. Smoke lingered around his face like a dull grey halo before dissipating.

“I’m going to ask one more time. What is yo-“

“Boss, I think he’s telling the truth.”

Kaz finally spoke up, lifting his face to meet the imposing stare of Big Boss drilling into his sunglasses.

“How come you remember an event fifteen years ago but not your own name?” Kitty piped up, glaring at V, then to Kaz from under his thick lashes. “That doesn’t sound too good.”

“Probably has something to do with that shit in his forehead,” Kaz said bluntly. “Something like that ought to scramble your brains a bit, I’m sure.”

V shuffled his feet uneasily. He clearly wasn’t used to being the center of attention. His good eye drifted to the red telephone sitting on the corner of the desk.

“I’ve got nothing to gain from lying to you people,” he murmured. “I just need to make one call. My family, they-“

“Go ahead, then. Make your call.”

Big Boss waved an open palm at the phone and smirked, his cigar dangling from the corner of his mouth. “But let me dial it for you.”

“Boss!” Kaz protested, taking a step forward. 

He stood only a foot away from Big Boss, but never had he felt so small. That hulking figure of a man, standing not much taller than him in black leather and smelling so strongly of tobacco and musk. Still, he persevered. “Just let him use the fucking phone! I told him he could-“

Big Boss cut him off with a hearty laugh- a dark sort of laugh, rumbling deep in his chest.

“I don’t remember you giving commands around here, Hana. You best mind your manners,” he said, leaning into him and nearly closing the gap between them. “Remember that I can take everything away just as easily as I gave it to you.”

With that, he blew a thick cloud of smoke into Kaz’s reddened, sweating face.


	7. Oscillate Wildly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Formatting got kinda mangled. I dunno why everything is so spaced apart?? Anyway please bear with me

Turning on the thick back heel of his motorcycle boot, Big Boss took a step towards the phone.

  
The artificial light in the windowless room contoured his face with harsh shadows and reflected in his visible eye. Though his eyebrows furrowed and his posture seemed relaxed, he was just as unreadable as ever.

  
“Now, I’m giving you your one call,” he began, letting his fingers hover over the receiver. “But you’re going to tell me the number so I can dial it for you. Got it?”

  
“Why? Why don’t you trust me?”

  
An expression of genuine confusion and fear appeared on V’s soft face. Each line of worry seemed to age him drastically- especially under the quietly humming fluorescent bulbs.

  
He looked so weathered in such a short amount of time.

  
“What reason have you given me to trust you?” Big Boss responded. He lifted the receiver and stuck his finger into the dial, but his eye never left V. “Now, let’s get this over with.”

  
Kaz felt his mouth open to challenge Big Boss just one more time, but quickly snapped to his senses. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Kitty shiver. The choking atmosphere in the room may have affected him, too.

  
To Kaz, Kitty had a way of being some sort of social chameleon. He never seemed to show any natural emotion, instead choosing to mimic whatever was the most dominant in the room- or whatever Big Boss was feeling at that moment. Perhaps he had some sort of empathy stashed away for behind closed doors? Kaz didn’t really give a shit.

  
Still, it unnerved him.

  
Light glinted off of the bead of sweat forming on V’s brow, a glimmer as it rolled down his scarred cheek.

  
“So you want me to just tell you the number?”

  
“That’s right.”

  
“And you’ll give the phone to me when you’re done?”

  
“Of course.”

  
Big Boss flashed him an unsettling, tight-lipped smile.

  
In his peripheral vision, Kaz saw V give him a look of helplessness. Guilt and regret began to tear through the pit of his stomach like a machete through a bamboo thicket.

  
In a grave tone, V began to list the area code as Big Boss spun around the dial. Despite the tension bearing down on the rest of the room, he seemed quite calm and aloof.

  
“Three-seven-zero-two.”

  
V finished the last four digits breathlessly, sweat beading around his hairline and dripping down the bridge of his nose. He reached his hand out to yank the phone away from Big Boss, but stopped just short of his wrist as the receiver was shoved into his face.

  
“-Area Taxi Service. Our reservation hours are between 8 AM and 11PM. If you’d li-“

  
Slamming the receiver on the table, Big Boss reached around and yanked V into a chokehold. He whipped out his SIG P220 and pressed it against the man’s slick temple.

  
“That sure doesn’t sound like family. Who sent you?” Big Boss asked, his voice a low growl. “Who the hell are you?”

  
With his back to the wall, Kaz stared at V in slack-jawed betrayal. His mouth hung open as if he were perpetually inhaling to shout.

  
It served him right for trusting anybody for more than a few minutes, really.

  
“I don’t know, I- I’m not-“

  
“That isn’t gonna work a second time, buddy. You better start really talking before-“

  
“Nobody sent me, I have no idea what you’re-“

  
“Then why’d you lie? Why’d you call a cab?”

  
“Listen, I can explain. I-“

  
V struggled and thrashed in the iron grip of Big Boss but, despite his few inches of a height advantage, couldn’t shake him off.

  
“It was that ugly Hungarian son of a bitch, wasn’t it?”

  
“Who?”

  
“Then who was it?”

  
“It wasn’t anybody! Let me go!“

  
“Boss!”

  
Kitty’s deep affected southern accent piped up from in between the chaos and grunting. He stood with his arms crossed, unnaturally calm in such a dire situation. “Boss, if you kill him then-“

  
“I’m not gonna kill him. I know what I’m doing.”

  
Big Boss pulled his gun away from V’s head but still hooked his arm around the other man’s neck. “If he doesn’t want to spit it out, I’ve got plans for him.”

  
“Plans?” V repeated, his voice raspy.

  
“You know, Hana, I’m not sure whether I should thank you or put a bullet between your eyes for bringing this guy here to me,” Big Boss went on, ignoring V.

 

Against the velvet paneled walls behind him, Kaz bit down on his bottom lip anxiously. He sucked it between his teeth and stared at him from over the top of his aviators- which had slid down to the tip of his nose with sweat.

  
It wasn’t the first time Big Boss threatened him with an execution, and it sure as hell wouldn’t be the last time.

  
Big Boss turned his attention back to V and gave him a disingenuous closed-mouth smile.

  
“His future’s here with us now. We can iron out the details later.”

 


End file.
